Underkeeper

Bernt launched a fireball down the narrow tunnel, right down the sharp-toothed maw of the approaching kobold. It impacted with a dull whomp, blowing the creature’s burning, now-headless corpse back into the storage chamber, where it crashed into a pile of loose beetle armor.

More kobolds were calling to each other from just outside the tunnel, but they kept out of his line of sight. He was cornered, and the short stretch of tunnel he’d created so far was suddenly sweltering hot. Casting a full-strength fireball in such a small, enclosed space wasn’t a great idea—he was lucky he hadn’t cooked himself.

Bernt gritted his teeth. He’d been working on the tunnel and hadn’t heard it when the patrol approached. Jori was still gone, so she couldn’t warn him either. Questing out to try to sense her, he realized she’d gone quite a distance—the bond felt weak. He tugged on it mentally, signaling her to come back.

He felt her alarm as she realized that he was in trouble. It was probably too late now, but he would take all the help he could get. She was moving very quickly—maybe she’d make it…

Bernt shot a fire dart at another kobold as it poked its head around the corner, but it managed to jump back in time to avoid it.

He needed to think of something, and fast. If he couldn’t clear out that entire room in the next few moments, he’d be trapped here. There was no telling how long it would take before reinforcements boxed him in. Bernt could only think of one idea, but it was a risk. The last time he’d tried this, he had all the other Underkeepers to provide cover for him.

Bernt activated his protective amulet and did his best to ignore the prickling sensation of the thorns as he raised a fire shield around himself. It only took a moment, but it was long enough for another kobold, seeing he was busy, to rush into the tunnel.

He decided to take a chance and ignore the intrusion, already casting his next spell as he walked toward the enemy. His shield grew brighter as its superheated layer of plasma grew hotter and hotter. The smaller creature stabbed at him with a dagger, but ran headlong into the fire shield as it did so and spasmed violently, skewing its aim.

The dagger poked into his robes, but didn’t break the skin, and the kobold squirmed away, shrieking in pain.

Then Bernt was through the mouth of his tunnel, back in the chamber. Something hit him hard in the knee, and he felt something pop with a horrible shivering sensation, but at least he’d finished casting his spell. The outer membrane of the fire shield dissipated, releasing a wave of incandescent plasma out in all directions.

Kobolds were pushed back by the blast wave. Those standing closest to him suffered serious burns and writhed on the ground, while those further back closed their eyes and mouths as they were scorched by the hot air.

It wouldn’t last long, he knew. The heat would circulate upward into other tunnels, and whatever remained would dissipate into the cool walls. But that still gave him a few seconds.

He hurried over to the open door, cutting off the kobolds’ escape. As he did, he felt that uncomfortable popping in his knee again, but he didn’t have time to worry about it now.

Bernt raised his wand toward the enemy as they came at him and cast fire darts as quickly as possible, starting with the kobolds closest to him. It was the fastest combat spell he could muster, but it was only lethal at close range. Even when it didn’t kill, though, it caused horribly deep burns.

He knew what those felt like and how disabling a serious burn could be—you couldn’t learn fire magic without burning yourself. At least, he hadn’t.

But he was too slow with two of the kobolds, who reached him wielding a spear and club. The spear stabbed down into his leg while the club struck him in the head.

That hurt a lot, and Bernt lost control of the spell he was trying to cast in his assailants’ faces, but he wasn’t seriously injured. He almost had them! Frantic, he lashed out with his bare hands, punching the club-wielding one in the face before kicking awkwardly out at the other.

Without warning, something snapped in his knee, and the leg he was standing on crumpled underneath him and dumped him on the floor. He gasped, and before he could react, he was hit in the head—then again and again.

It felt like a long time before Bernt lost consciousness, but it couldn’t have been more than a few seconds.

Wits addled by the ongoing beating, Bernt’s thoughts drifted to his thorn skin amulet.

He was impressed. Grixit really did great enchanting work.

***

Bernt woke with grit in his mouth and an uncomfortable pressure around his wrists. His head was pounding in time with his heartbeat.

He lurched forward as he was dragged a few steps, the yapping kobold language sounding from all around him. When he came to a stop again, his head lolled, nose and mouth smacking against the stone floor. Tears shot into his eyes, and he could taste blood in his mouth.

He was face down on the ground, and being pulled down the tunnel by a rope they’d tied around his hands.

What the hell? He tried to roll over and look around.

Something kicked him in the side, and one of the kobolds called out. They’d realized he was awake. The rope pulled him forward again as they heaved, and he was dragged once more over the smooth stone floor. This time, he pushed down with his elbows to keep his head up. The rough stone floor against his bare skin didn’t hurt as much as it probably should.

That was when he realized why they were using the rope. His thorn skin amulet was still active—for much longer than advertised—and while kobolds had scaled hides, he doubted their fingers were protected enough to simply grab him with thorns covering every inch of his skin.

That had to be an advantage he could use. Somehow.

Another kobold kicked him, and then another. They were jeering at him now, celebrating their victory. There were far more of them now than just those two that beat him back there in the storage chamber.

They had him. He couldn’t fight his way out of this.

Twisting again, he tried to take a look at the kobolds around him. The jeering grew louder, and one landed a kick on his stomach this time, but he caught sight of one of the little monsters carrying his bag up ahead.

He tried to come up with a plan, to think of something—anything that could lead to an escape. Whatever had happened to his wands and his bag, he still had his ring on, and that had to be useful. He could cast cantrips, at least—he couldn’t move his hands enough for real spells. But what would actually help?

Fear and anger flashed through him so hot that he gritted his teeth for a moment, and it took him a second to realize that the emotion wasn’t his own. Jori was coming closer, and she was… different. There was a focus to her mind he’d never sensed before, and she was moving fast.

Mentally, he tried to reassure her. He was still alive, and not in immediate danger. She needed to keep her distance. Jori calmed a little, so he knew that she’d received the message, but she didn’t stop coming.

The kobolds continued hauling him down the tunnel until they reached an intersection. They stopped there and started arguing amongst themselves. One of the kobolds gestured at him, then at the intersection. Another shook its head, barked a response and pointed back the way they’d come.

Bernt had spent enough time down here now to guess what was happening. The space ahead was trapped all to hell, and they probably couldn’t drag him through without triggering half a dozen of them. One of them wanted to go around somehow, and another wanted to figure out a way through.

For a moment, Bernt considered attacking while they were distracted, but the argument was over in just a few seconds. The kobolds dragged him back a little ways, hauled him into a doorless chamber and dumped him on the ground. Two stood inside the opening, spears lowered at him, clearly threatening.

Were they going to disable the traps? Or just save themselves the trouble and kill him here? They’d gone to a lot of trouble to take prisoners before, so he hoped they wouldn’t do anything rash now. His heart started pounding again, aggravating his pounding headache.

Jori was close now—he saw through her eyes that she was scampering along the tunnel ceiling. It was a disorienting perspective, but he maintained his focus on the bond. She was hiding in shadowed corners and cracks, then brazenly climbing along the ceiling right over the kobolds’ heads. Bernt tried to figure out how she knew when they were or weren’t looking, but he just couldn’t tell, despite his access to her senses. It was impressive to watch.

Now she was looking at a tunnel intersection much like the one his kidnappers had turned back from. She was looking for something, though Bernt didn’t know what.

A moment later, she turned around, scampering back a short way. Then she screeched.

Bernt heard it in his makeshift cell. She was nearby. The kobolds perked up.

Over by Jori, a single kobold ran up to investigate and immediately saw her clinging to the ceiling—she was making no effort to hide at all. Bernt’s heart seized in his chest. She was about to get herself killed. What was she doing?

Bernt looked at his captors, trying to think of a way to help. They were no longer watching him. Jori, meanwhile, leapt from the ceiling and struck the other kobold, rending his face with her claws. The unfortunate creature screamed in pain and terror at the sudden demonic assault.

One of the guards said something to the other, and then called out louder to make itself heard outside the chamber. There was a response, and then he heard several sets of feet scurry off down the tunnel to investigate.

***

Jori, meanwhile, left her victim writhing on the ground, the lizard still making a lot of noise as she ran back toward the intersection and hid herself in a ventilation shaft. Seconds later, six lizards ran by, and Jori dashed out and toward Bernt.

Lying flat on his back, Bernt watched as Jori, maybe twenty seconds later, darted through the doorway, completely silent.

But it wasn’t Jori—not quite.

She was larger, her skin a shade or two darker. Where before she’d had little nubs poking up from her bald head, she now sported sharp, two-inch-long horns.

When he’d found her, Jori looked… childlike, for lack of a better word. Demons never really looked harmless, but she hadn’t exactly looked like a dangerous hellspawn either. That hadn’t changed in the following years, though she had grown a little bit. Now… well, she wasn’t a runt anymore. She looked like a textbook imp—and she looked angry.

With a slight scratching noise, she flung herself up into the air from the lintel, nearly reaching the ceiling before she spread out her wings—which he noticed were also significantly larger than before.

Then she flung fire at one of the kobolds before landing on the other, clawing into its head, then gripping tightly with her hands as she gouged it with her viciously taloned feet.

A horrible stench filled the room instantly and Bernt felt his gorge rise in response—burnt hair and meat along with the distinctive stink of sulfur.

Hellfire. He didn’t know she could do that.

Pushing his surprise and revulsion to the back of his mind, Bernt heaved himself up to his feet and cast an unlocking cantrip on his bonds, using his ring as a focus. It didn’t work very well, since the spell wasn’t meant to untie knots, but the rope did loosen. With a wrenching motion and an assist from his aching teeth, he managed to get one hand free, thorns from the still-active protective enchantment breaking off of his skin.

A quick shake later, both his hands were free to cast.

The two kobolds inside the room were out of the fight. One was bleeding out on the ground with deep gashes in its face and neck, and the other was obviously dead—half its face was simply gone.

Bernt’s stomach did a few uncomfortable little flips at the gruesome sight. He’d seen a lot of dead kobolds already, but there was something especially unsettling about seeing the inside of a head. That just… hit differently. It wasn’t right.

Trying to ignore it, he started casting a fire shield around himself. The other kobolds would be back soon, and if they’d heard the short fight here, he and Jori only had seconds.

“Jori, this was a bad idea,” he chided her. “We don’t know how many there are, and they know we’re here now. We can’t kill… them all?” He trailed off, watching in bemusement as a faintly glowing mist coalesced above the two bodies. With a sharp intake of breath, both of the soul fragments were sucked into Jori’s mouth and nose.

That was different—deliberate, even.

Before he could ask her about it, though, Jori looked up at him and smiled, baring sharp teeth. The fear was gone, and she radiated nothing but confidence and an unsettling kind of bloodlust through the bond. Then, in a hoarse whisper, she spoke.

“Bad lizards die. All die! We kill them.”